


Give You Both Night and Day

by fannishliss



Series: Between Supposed Lovers [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:57:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby sends Sam and Dean to Seattle to track down a new lead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give You Both Night and Day

**Title** : “give you both night and day”

 **Author** :  fannishliss

 **Rating/genre/pairing** : Sam/Dean (wincest) NC-17. Please do not read if you are under 17.

 **Length** : 6000 words (woohoo!)

 **Series** : this is the fourth story in the series begun by "between supposed lovers."

 **Spoilers/warnings** : through 5.10. Low on angst! Much Latin.

 

Summary: Bobby sends Sam and Dean to Seattle to track down a new lead.

 

earlier stories:

"[between supposed lovers](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/39000.html)" (coda to 5.9, 3000 words, PG-13)

"[heroes in the morning](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/40435.html)" (code to 5.10, 3500 words, R)

"[Two Lovers' Souls in Motion](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/41930.html)" (5000 words, hurt/comfort! NC-17)

 

~*o*~

 

 

 

Dean and Sam were driving, as usual, when they got the call from Bobby.  Sam set his phone to speaker and held it over so Dean could hear.

 

“Ever heard of the Videbam Satanan?”  Bobby said.

 

“No,” Dean answered, but Sam frowned.

 

“I saw Satan?”

 

“Yeah,” Bobby said.  “It’s an old text of the Roman Christians, a legendary chapter of Acts.  In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus gave the Seventy authority to cast out demons.  So they do, and then they return and out of nowhere Jesus says, ‘I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven.’” 

 

Dean was nodding comprehension – they’d both been studying the Biblical canon as well as apocryphal texts, sorting through prophecies and apocalyptic lore.  So Sam answered for them, “Uh, videbam Satanan sicut fulgur de caelo cadentem?”  Dean rolled his eyes, mouthing “brown noser!” but Latin had always come easy to Sam, and he was spending a lot of time with old texts and commentaries these days.

 

“Gold star, Sam.  So in this extended text, Jesus tells the secret that connects the power to cast out demons – your run of the mill exorcism, like the Rituale Romanum – with the power to cast down Satan himself – or Lucifer, as he prefers these days.”

 

“Dude, Bobby, that’s awesome!” Dean said, hope growing on his face.

 

“Not so fast, son,” Bobby said.  “I don’t actually have the text, just a lead on the location of a supposed copy.  Are you all anywhere near Seattle?”

 

Dean did some rapid math in his head.  “About 14 hours – not too bad. We can be there late tonight, if we split the driving,” and Sam nodded. 

 

“We’ll let you know when we get to Seattle, Bobby,” Sam said, “and thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome.  You all get there and get some rest and you can do the recon tomorrow, figure out how to get in.”

 

Dean preferred to drive on old US Highways instead of interstates, but when there were vast distances to be crossed in a short period of time, the interstates hooked one part of the country up to another quick and easy.  Sam and Dean were long used to eating fast food in the front of the car, taking a pee break every three hours and switching drivers, napping while the other piloted the long, anonymous stretches of four-lane highway, where the crooked was made straight and the high brought low.

 

They cruised through Snoqualmie around midnight and Dean wanted to stop.

 

“Dude, we could stay at the Great Northern!”  Dean grinned.

 

“Yeah, but no Sherilynn even if we did,” Sam said.

 

Dean’s face fell. “But pie!” 

 

“It’s a myth,” Sam said.  “Frozen.” 

 

“Man!  That’s just wrong,” Dean grumbled, driving on.  Sam stared out the window, watching the endless tossing of the pine trees against the night sky.

 

They slept that night in a non-descript motel closer to the city limits in a salted-off and warded room. Dean loved the enochian wards that Castiel had taught them, and got a kick out of drawing them wherever they stayed.   He woke Sam up around three with a nightmare, but he shook it off and settled back against Sam fairly quickly. 

 

Dean woke at dawn and took them out for a run.  With horsemen of the Apocalypse running loose and Lucifer walking the earth, Dean was training like he had back when Dad was alive, and Sam trained with him.  They ran six or seven miles most days, and the hard runs cleared their minds, fears and misgivings purged by their heavy breaths as they ran.

 

Most days they got in some sparring as well.  Sam found that he loved to spar with Dean, despite the fact that they’d gone after each other with deadly intent twice in the last year – or maybe for that very reason. Sparring with Dean, he saw how much better his brother had gotten in the year since he’d come back from Hell.  The guilt that had haunted his eyes back then was replaced by determination, and what Castiel insisted was faith, though Dean wouldn’t call it that.  With Sam alongside, Dean was gonna save the world or die trying – and Sam felt just the same way.

 

Sparring, they rarely landed blows, knowing each other’s moves and tells so well.  It reminded Sam of a capoeira demonstration he’d seen once – a martial art form that was literally a dance, where feints and responses stood in for actual hits. Sam was a good fighter, he knew, but he loved to watch Dean, who became so at one with his body when he fought.  There was a fierce joy to Dean when he was fighting, a warrior’s grin on his face that Sam delighted to see.

 

This morning, after their run, they found a terrific diner for breakfast.  True to its reputation, the coffee in Seattle was fantastic and the wifi connections didn’t let up. Sam surfed and found out more about the private collection where Bobby had tracked the Videbam Satanan.

 

“This is too good to be true, Dean -- it looks like the collection is open to anyone who wants to make an appointment.”

 

“No way.  Here I thought we’d get to hustle ourselves in like cat burglars, maybe dangle on a wire or some shit.”

 

“Nah, I’ll just call and see if they’re open today.”

 

Dean pursed his lips and looked seriously disappointed, but Sam was just as glad they wouldn’t need to break in.   He got off the phone with a smile on his face.  “We can show up any time after ten, they say.  The collection has its own full-time curator.” 

 

“Your inner geek is spazzing out Sam, reel it in,”  Dean said, his eyes rolling so hard Sam thought they’d snap back into his head.

 

The collection was part of the estate of a dot com billionaire.  There was a guard at the gatehouse who let them in, and a butler who greeted them at the front door and ushered them to the wing where the collection was housed. There they were greeted by a trim African-American guy in his early forties, dressed in business casual. It made Sam glad they hadn’t worn the suits.

 

The curator shook hands with them. “Hi, I’m Dan Washington. You must be the religion students?” 

 

“Yeah, hi,” Sam said, “I’m Sam Livgren and this is my partner, Dean Walsh.”

 

“Welcome, welcome.   The text is under glass, but you’re welcome to study it.”

 

“Would it be possible to make a transcript?”

 

“You’ll have to sign a release.  My employer doesn’t wish the contents to be published at this time.” 

 

“That’s just fine,” Sam said, and brought out his laptop.  Dean had fallen to gazing blankly around the room, but since there were no weapons and no nude portraits, he was instantly bored.

 

“Dean, I want you to double check me as I type, okay?  These things are notoriously difficult to read.”

 

“Ah, sure thing,”  Dean said, clearly dubious about his ability to proof Sam, but he was willing to give it a shot.

 

The text was only a fragment, but as Sam typed, he felt his blood flowing faster.  These very words might possibly have been spoken by a living incarnation of God – written down and preserved so that Sam and Dean could have a chance to defeat Lucifer.

 

“Dude, I wish Castiel were here.”

 

“Me, too,” Dean said, “but why?”

 

“Cause I wonder if your amulet would burn in the presence of the words of God.”

 

Dean shivered.  “Creepy!  It never did before.” 

 

Sam thought about it.  Castiel was disappearing for longer stretches of time, following the barest traces of the presence of God, but he’d still not found his Father.

 

“The Gospels say that the Holy Spirit is present anywhere two believers call on God’s name.”

 

Dean just rolled his eyes at that and Sam returned to typing. The text was only about twenty lines long, and Sam was almost done when a slight guy in a casual blazer strode through the main doors into the room. Sam recognized him from the website as David Tate, the owner of the collection.  He quickly finished typing the last phrase into his laptop and stood up from the table, hand outstretched to greet and thank the man.  Dean stood up beside him.

 

“Dan, what’s going on here?  How did these two get in here?”

 

“I’m sorry, David, they made an appointment.  Why...?”

 

Sam blushed. “We’re religion students, sir; we just wanted to study this fragment.”

 

“Bullshit, Winchester.  You want to send our Lord back to Hell – when you’ve done such a good job letting him out.”

 

They should’ve known it couldn’t be this easy.  Tate was possessed, and he probably already had security on the way. As Dean leapt to tackle the possessed man, Sam started shouting as fast as he could: “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas -- Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii -- “  


Tate thrashed and roared, but Dean outweighed him considerably, a big advantage regardless of the demon’s strength.

 

Dan ran forward, shouting, “Stop! What are you doing?”

 

Sam was so glad he’d drilled this so often: “Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et sectio-- Ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica—“

 

 

Dean kept his presence of mind, yelling, “Does he have epilepsy?  What the hell is this?  I gotta keep him from swallowing his tongue.”  Dean slammed his hand down over the demon’s mouth, and it was full of salt packets from his pocket, loaded up from a recent trip to a fast food place. The demon gurgled as Sam continued.

 

“Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias servire libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!”

 

Sam finished triumphantly, and sure enough, the demon vacated from Tate with an echoing scream.  Sam was glad it was a minor demon, not very strong, just keeping watch over the place.

 

Tate stirred weakly just as two security guys ran in.  “What’s going on here?” they asked Dan.  Dan looked stunned, not knowing what to say, as Dean helped Tate up and Sam pulled out a chair for him to sit down in.

 

“Mr. Tate?” said one of the security men.

 

“It’s all right, Jay.  I must’ve, I don’t know, blacked out or something.” The look he gave Sam and Dean was mingled fear and gratitude, so they knew he remembered that he had been possessed. 

 

As Tate dismissed the guards, Sam asked, “Sir, we just wanted to make a transcript of this text about exorcising demons, and we’re almost done.  Is that okay?”

 

For a second, Tate hesitated, but then he said, “If you can make use of that text, by all means, take your time.”

 

Dan stepped forward, frightened and angry.  “What the hell was that, David?  These two guys just jumped you?  and now you’re okay with that?”

 

Tate shook his head.  Sam held his tongue, wondering what the man would say.

 

“Dan, these two men are here on a very important mission.  That .... thing...  I was possessed, okay?  Possessed by an honest-to-God demon.  And these two guys are the number one enemy to demons.  So, if they want to copy this text, you need to help them with whatever they want.”

 

Dan frowned, clearly trying to reconcile his rational mind, his concern for his employer and friend, and what he had seen with his own two eyes. 

 

Sam spoke up then, seizing the moment. “Listen, if you have any other texts cross-referenced with this one, it would help us a lot.”

 

Giving Dan a curatorial problem was just the ticket.  “Actually, yes.   I can do that search and print out what we have for you.”

 

“Are you really okay?  Can I check you out?” Dean asked Tate.

 

Tate hesitated, then said, “I think I’m okay.  I’ve been having these horrible dreams for the last several months, a few bizarre urges... but nothing like this until today.”

 

“Sounds like the demon was on a pleasure cruise,” Dean said.  “They can lie pretty low until the time is right to take over. The demon allowed you to stay yourself until we got too close to the fragment.”

 

“Here’s a printout of the other resources we have cross-referenced with this text,”  Dan said, handing a page to Sam.  

 

“Can you email it to me as well?  I’d like to forward it to our colleague.  Dean, can you call Bobby and tell him to look for my email?”

 

“Can do. Mr. Tate, are you sure you’ll be....”

 

“I’ll be fine.  It’s just, you know, a bad shock, to find out that something so horrible has been sort of parasitizing me all this time and I didn’t even realize it.”

 

“I hate to say it, but it could’ve been a lot worse,” Dean said.

 

Sam added, “There are anti-possession charms we can give you to make sure it doesn’t come back.”

 

“You guys wear charms?”  Dan asked.

 

“Nah, man,” Dean grinned mirthlessly.  “We got ink.”  He pulled aside his collar, and Tate whistled. 

 

“I want one,” Dan responded.

 

“Okay, you guys get your geek on, I’ll call Bobby and go get a couple charms from the Impala.”

 

“I guess I should be grateful,” Tate said, but Dean interrupted.

 

“You are what you are, man.  You don’t owe us anything, just doing our jobs.” With that he stalked out. 

 

Sam raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry Dean had to, uh, tackle you and all.”

 

“Yeah, and he crammed my mouth full of salt.  What was that about?”

 

“Demon repellent.  We line our doorways and windowsills, we carry salt, we even shoot it from shotguns.”  Sam knew it sounded insane, but they owed it to the man to teach him how to protect himself.

 

“Holy crap,” Tate said, wide-eyed.  “If that’s your job, I’m really glad I’m a software developer.”

 

Sam nodded.  No one became a Hunter out of choice.  It was more like something that just took over your life.  

 

Bobby emailed back, crossing the texts he already had access to off Dan’s list.  For the remaining texts, the library held several in duplicate, and Dan made a stack of these to send to Bobby as long-term loans. Others, he could send as digital copies.  He had an assistant who came in half-time, and he promised to put her on digitizing the relevant sections of those texts on a priority basis.

 

With Dean teaching Tate about devil’s traps, rock salt, exorcism rituals, and charms, the afternoon flew by, and soon they were ready to hit the road, taking the loaned books to Bobby right away.

 

“This is a real godsend,” Sam said, trying not to notice Dean flinching like a demon at the mention of God. “The fragment I transcribed, or something in one of these books, could be the key to stopping Lucifer.” 

 

“I never dreamed my collection would save the world.  It’s like something out of AD&D,” Tate remarked, a little sheepishly. 

 

“Thanks for letting us look at it.  I hope the stuff I told you will keep you a little safer from now on,” Dean said, and with that they made their goodbyes. 

 

Dean got his wish after all, and they stopped at a little diner in North Bend for supper. Sam was right, the pie was frozen, but Dean said “Pie is always better than no pie,” and he scraped every bit of cherry gel from the plate and washed it down with a huge cup of coffee.

 

“This,” he said to the waitress with a glint in his eye, “is a damn fine cup of coffee.” 

 

“Glad you enjoyed it,” the waitress said, sighing as she bussed the table.

 

Sam pursed his lips and said nothing, but Dean frowned anyway and kicked him under the table.

 

“Ow! Jerk!” Sam replied, and there was a bit of a scuffle as they fought for supremacy, boots vs. shins.

 

Dean paid the tab.   “I wish Tate would just give us a platinum card and a big wad of cash, don’t you?”

 

Sam sighed. “Hunting isn’t fiscally sound, Dean.  Fact of life.”

 

Dean nodded, and they headed on out.

 

They drove for a couple of hours till they hit a motel that satisfied Dean’s peculiar criteria.  Sam would never understand how Dean picked them; he supposed there were a million tiny cues that screamed “bizarre dive” to Dean’s practiced eye.

Dean made a beeline for the bed, and plopped himself back against the headboard with a beer in his hand and another on the bedside table.

 

“Damn, it’s a long way to Bobby’s from Seattle,” Dean said.  “It’s gonna take us at least two days, hard driving.”

 

“Bobby says we don’t need to rush,” Sam responded, looking at an email. “He’s working with the transcript now, and the sources Dan cross-referenced that he already had.  He has enough to work on for a day or two.”

 

“Okay, well, then tell him we’ll be there in three days instead of day after tomorrow.  No use running ourselves ragged unless it’s for a good reason.”

 

Dean finished his first beer and opened the second one, taking a relaxed swallow and just breathing deep.

 

Sam got a beer of his own and settled in beside Dean.  He savored the way Dean leaned up against him a little, like he wasn’t really thinking about it.

 

“You think this is it, Sammy?” Dean asked. The big question.

 

“I don’t know, Dean. I mean, we thought the Colt was it, and it wasn’t, and look where that got us.  I think it’s pretty much of a long shot, trying to exorcise Lucifer himself.  I mean, how do you even start?”

 

Dean just drank, and shook his head as he swallowed.

 

“I do know one thing, I’m going after him alone,” Sam said.

 

“What?  Hell, no!”  Dean glared daggers at Sam.

 

“But it only makes sense, Dean.  He can’t kill me, because I’m the vessel.  But nothing’s stopping him from killing you.”

 

Dean scowled.  “Well, at least he doesn’t have, like, lightning blasting out of his fingertips or whatever, or he woulda killed me already.” 

 

“Dude.  That would suck,” Sam said solemnly, and he made a deadly hand of lightning and a little kapow noise.

 

Dean giggled, and did it back, till they were both laughing helplessly, leaning back against the headboard, throwing imaginary lightning at everyone who pissed them off.

 

“Frozen pie?  Kapow!” Dean threw lightning at the little tourist trap diner, laughing.

 

“You know who I want to zap?  That skinny, floppy haired guy.  Kapow, kapow!” Sam said.

 

Dean looked over at Sam, his laughter dying away.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Dude, he hurt you. You’re like, traumatized.”  Though, after all the shit life had thrown Dean, it was hard to pick out any one thing more traumatic than a boatload of other things.

 

Dean scoffed. “Maybe I’m a little fucked up--but I think Hell’s more to blame than some guy who was bad at sex.”

 

Sam couldn’t meet Dean’s gaze. “Are we ... do you think... you’ll ever get past it?”

 

Dean’s hand fell gently on the back of Sam’s head, patting a little. Then Dean said, “What if I’m already past it?”

 

Sam looked at Dean. Dean’s face was solemn, but contented, and he was playing gently with the back of Sam’s neck, fingers carding lightly through Sam’s hair. Sam knew his heart was in his eyes.  This thing with Dean had been a surprise, but once his eyes were opened, Sam found he wanted it more than anything.

 

“I want to, Sammy.  I swear.  You’re ready, I’m ready, let’s do it.”  Dean was bluff but sincere.

 

“One step at a time, Dean.”

 

“Well, yeah.  I learned that already, I’m a quick study, you know.”  Dean smirked and Sam thought they really might be all right, despite everything.

 

Sam leaned closer to Dean and Dean took the hint, pulling Sam in and kissing him thoroughly.  Kissing Dean made Sam dizzy, like a drug --Dean’s lips moving against his, his tongue delving smoothly into Sam’s mouth, the sweetness of Dean’s breath under the taste of beer.  Dean eased them down onto the bed, and Sam hovered above him.  As he pressed his body against Dean’s, Sam could feel Dean’s erection, hard and ready, but he wanted to go slow. They still had on way too many clothes, but maybe that was a good thing -- it actually helped Sam keep control, as he kissed Dean languidly and contented himself with stroking the warm, smooth skin of Dean’s sides where he could get at them, under the layers.

 

When he finally pulled back, Dean’s face was hot, his cheeks tinged with a high blush. 

 

“You’re really into kissing, aren’t you?” Dean asked, a little breathlessly.

 

“Not usually,” Sam said, pretending to be casual. “I’m usually all caveman.”  Dean snorted, and Sam grinned.  “--but damn, Dean, kissing you is like ... like ... I think it’s like your ideal of pie.”

 

“Sticky and crusty?”  Dean smirked.  Smartass.

 

“No,” Sam said patiently, “like all the sweetness in the world, right there waiting for me.  Like I’ve got the most wonderful thing ever, and I just want to savor it and I don’t want it ever to end.”

 

“Dude, I never thought I’d seriously be compared to pie,” Dean said. 

 

“Favorably compared,” Sam corrected him.

 

“It’s like Led Zeppelin,” Dean said.

 

Sam laughed, recalling the mostly unintelligible song, and sang tunelessly, “Won’t you please save me a slice!”

 

Dean laughed with him again, relaxed and happy, and Sam felt a tide of love and affection flooding through him.  Maybe they didn’t deserve to be happy, after all they’d done, but god damn if Sam wouldn’t grab whatever joy was on the plate and share it with Dean, as much as he possibly could.

 

Sam stood up and starting peeling off his clothes. Dean grinned.  Sam turned around and shook his ass at Dean, slapping his jeans as he slowly unbuttoned them.

 

“Seriously, Sam?”  Dean laughed, warmly.

 

“You know you love it, Dean!”  Sam tried to pout.

 

“Just get on the bed and let me show you how it’s done,” Dean said.

 

“Oh my god,” Sam said, quickly shucking the rest of his clothes.  “What have I done now?”  His brother, in truth, had an unholy love of “exotic dance,” so Sam had no idea what he was in for.

 

Dean turned on the clock radio, already tuned to classic rock, and cranked the volume. Dean could find classic rock stations so easily it was like a psychic gift.  The tinny speakers filled the room with a driving beat. “Dude, awesome!  Guaranteed to get you in the mood, Sammy.”

 

“Guaranteed to make me laugh my ass off,” Sam returned.

 

Dean’s voice was a high, husky tenor, sweet enough when he thought no one was listening, but he was also a shameless ham at lip-synching.  As Paul Rodgers crooned and the guitar line thrust mercilessly, Dean peeled off his army surplus shirt button by button, like he was a theme stripper for Seattle in the 90s. Despite himself Sam was caught by the spell of Dean’s hips as he danced to the relentless beat of the song.

 

The army shirt was finally off and Dean had to untie his boots.  He squatted down, pointing at Sam and lip-synching while he pulled bootlaces with the other hand. He pulled off his boots and socks and stood up, unbuttoning his jeans for Sam, one button at a time.  Sam was actually pretty into it by now, and he licked his lips at the outline of Dean’s package in his boxer briefs.   

 

“See something you like there, Sammy?”  Dean smirked. 

 

“Uh huh,” Sam said happily.

 

Dean stripped his tee shirt over his head.  The muscles of his torso gleamed as he raised his arms, his ribs lifted over his narrow waist.  He was gorgeous and ready to give it all to Sam. 

 

“How much for a lap dance?”  Sam wrinkled his brow, playing at serious.

 

“No way, Sammy,” Dean frowned. “Lap dance means you can’t touch the goods.  You don’t want the bouncers throwing you out.”

 

Dean made his way over to the bed as the song ended and switched to the Moody Blues. Gracefully he straddled Sam, kneeling over Sam’s long legs stretched out on the bed.

 

“Don’t you wanna touch the goods?”  Dean said.  Even playing, Dean was pure sex—his eyes huge and dark, his skin pale and smooth, his musculature like a god’s, and his lips like a sinful dream.

 

“Yes, please,” Sam breathed.

 

“All righty then,” Dean responded, and lifted Sam’s big hands onto his body.

 

“Oh, God, Dean,” Sam sighed. Dean’s hands were not as long but broader than Sam’s, calloused and strong.  The feel of Dean’s hands controlling his own made Sam’s head spin. Those same hands could sharpen a blade, repair the Impala, wire a bomb, fire a gun with deadly accuracy – but right now they were guiding Sam’s hands sure and certain across Dean’s torso.

 

“Touch me, Sam,” Dean said, his amusement replaced with heat.

 

“Show me,” Sam said, and swallowed as Dean guided his hands to his nipples, pressing them into Dean’s chest.

 

“Pinch,” Dean whispered, so Sam did, watching in awe as Dean’s blush deepened, little lines of pain and pleasure etched themselves into his brother’s face.

 

“Ah, ah, Sam, that goes straight to my dick, Jesus,”  Dean gasped. 

 

“How about this then,” Sam said, leaning forward, and taking one hard little nub into his mouth, licking and teasing it till he had it between his teeth, poking it in and sucking it repeatedly, as Dean grabbed his head and pressed it to him.

 

“Sam, Sammy, Christ,” Dean said, and Sam switched to the other side, bringing his hand up to lightly pinch at the nipple he’d abandoned. 

 

Sam pulled off, and looked up at his brother.  “Is it good, Dean?”

 

Dean frowned, but nodded, eyes squeezed closed.

 

“Open your eyes,” Sam asked, and Dean did.  His eyes were hazy with lust, but he was there with Sam.

 

“Is it good?”

 

“Could be better,” Dean replied, his cocky words belied by the husk in his voice.

 

“Oh really,” Sam said, but he knew what Dean was getting at.  He turned them over, urging Dean onto his back. As Sam trailed his kisses down his brother’s torso, Dean thrust his hips up toward Sam, his dick twitching as Sam teased, licking into Dean’s belly button.

 

“Say, I want, Dean,” Sam said, looking into Dean’s eyes between kisses.

 

“Huh?” Dean said, a little breathlessly.

 

“Tell me what you want.  Say, I want...” 

 

“I want your mouth, Sam,” Dean said, and to Sam’s amazement he blushed again.

 

“You got it, Dean,” Sam answered, and kissed his brother’s dick tenderly. He pressed his lips right below the head, lips slick with spit, pressing his tongue firmly into the spot there that made Dean moan and arch into him.   Gripping Dean around the base, he stroked, slow and deep, while he moved the head in past his lips and out again, pulling against the slick smoothness and swirling his tongue near the slit.

 

“Ah, God, Sam, so good,” Dean groaned. 

 

 

Sam lay there contentedly with his cheek on Dean’s belly, nuzzling and sucking.  One of his hands drifted up to play with Dean’s sensitive nipples, pinching them lightly and pressing them into Dean’s pectorals. With his other hand he encircled Dean’s dick, stroking him up and down as he sucked.  Sam focused on Dean’s little moans of pleasure and ignored his own arousal, even as it simmered low in his belly and throbbed in his dick.

 

After a while Sam began to stroke Dean’s balls and back toward his perineum, to see what Dean would do. Dean’s hips jumped a little, but he didn’t seem to tense up.

 

“Ticklish,” Dean said, wrinkling his nose.

 

“Hold on, I’m gonna get some lube,” Sam said, and Dean nodded.  Sam’s duffel was on the floor nearby so it only took him a second to find the stuff and lay it on the bed.

 

Sam knelt between Dean’s legs with Dean spread out before him. 

 

“What are you waiting for, Sam?”

 

“Nothing, I’m in no hurry. I just wanted to look at you, Dean-- you know you’re gorgeous.”

 

Dean smirked but pulled Sam down into a smoldering kiss. Sam pulled away and caught his breath.

 

“You’re too good at that, man, make me lose track.”

 

“Mad skills, Sammy,” Dean grinned.

 

Sam lay hold of Dean’s dick and gave it a squeeze, and Dean’s eyes fluttered shut again.  “I have a few skills of my own,” Sam said.

 

“Yup,” Dean gasped, arching back. 

 

Sam wiggled down and got some lube on his fingers.

 

“One step at a time, right?”  Sam said.

 

“Right,” Dean said, breathlessly.

 

Sam held Dean’s hip in his left hand and swallowed Dean down as he slipped his right hand between Dean’s legs.  He found Dean’s entrance and gently rubbed across it with the lube.

 

Pulling off, he said, “Still ticklish?”

 

“No, it’s, ah, it feels, it wants to relax,” Dean murmured. 

 

“Good, then relax.” Sam suckled on Dean’s dick, not very deep, just mouthing and licking at the head, confusing Dean’s body with the pleasurable sensations. 

 

Dean breathed deep, trying to let go of his tension, as Sam gently rubbed over and around Dean’s entrance. When he felt Dean relaxing, he pressed his finger in just slightly. He gently stroked Dean there, pushing in and out again.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean murmured, shifting his hips a little.   “More?”  Sam added more lube to his finger and slowly pushed in deeper, moving it in circles and a little deeper each time. When his finger was all the way in he held it still, suckling Dean’s dick again.  He could feel Dean’s ass clenching around his finger, a little more relaxed each time. Dean was breathing slowly, trying to let go, and his body was easing up, letting Sam move one finger in and out more smoothly. 

 

“Another finger?” Sam said, and Dean nodded, breathing out again as Sam slowly worked it in.  The lube slicked the way and Dean felt smooth as satin inside. Sam could feel the pulse pounding around his fingers as he massaged the tight muscle open.

 

Sam had two fingers inside Dean’s ass now, and he watched Dean’s face for any signs of distress as he worked them in and out, but Dean looked good, really good – his head thrown back in passion, the blood high in his cheeks, his lips swollen, chest flushed and nipples standing taut and dark, his dick red and slick from Sam’s kisses as Sam worked between his legs. Sliding his fingers all the way in, he crooked them slightly and pulled back. 

 

“Ah!  Christ!”  Dean said, bucking a little.

 

“Magic, hm?”  Sam said, and did it again.  Right... there.

 

“Oh! Oh, god, Sammy,” Dean said. 

 

Sam hummed around Dean’s dick, rubbing his fingers against the slight swelling of Dean’s prostate. Dean jerked, unsure whether to thrust up into Sam’s mouth or down onto his hand.  Sam stroked him there, licking against Dean, savoring the heat as Dean moaned in pleasure and quivered all around him.

 

Sam’s fingers were moving in and out with ease now, so he pulled away. 

 

“One more finger?” Sam said.

 

“Ah, ah, Sammy,” Dean panted. “I never, it never felt so ...  ah!”

 

Sam eased his fingers in again, more slick, three this time, and Sam knew it had to burn at least a little.  He held them still and sucked Dean in again, suckling tenderly as Dean’s body adjusted to the new intrusion.

 

“Oh, God, Sammy, God!”  Dean cried out.  Sam could feel his ass struggling to clench, to push his fingers out, and Sam sucked Dean in a little deeper, working him with his tongue. Sam pressed against the little swollen area inside Dean, fluttering his fingers lightly.

 

“Jesus!”  Dean yelled.  “Ah, fuck!  Fuck me, Sammy, come on!”

 

Sam stayed where he was, Dean’s dick in his mouth, three fingers up Dean’s ass, and he began very slowly to move them in and out.   He paused to add a little more lube, and Dean groaned deeply as Sam’s fingers glided in again even more easily than before. 

 

“Sammy, Sammy, please.  Ah!”  Dean yelled again.

 

“Jesus Christ, Dean, you are loud!” Sam said, unerringly hitting Dean’s prostate now and massaging it thoroughly.

 

“You’re killing me here, shit!  Come on!”  Dean shouted.

 

“You sure?”  Sam said, smiling.

 

“Oh, you son of a bitch!” Dean growled, so Sam knew he was really on board.

 

Sam eased his hand free, leaving Dean panting and swearing as he rolled on the condom and added more lube.   He was down half a bottle and Dean was a mess, but it was worth it.

 

“Roll onto your side, Dean,”  Sam said, and got into position behind his brother.  Taking Dean’s dick in hand, Sam nudged at Dean’s entrance teasingly.

 

“Christ, Sam, what?” Dean growled again. 

 

“Bear down on me.  You’ll see,”  Sam said, and held himself still as he could.

 

Dean pushed back against Sam, bearing down, and Sam pushed smoothly in. 

 

“Oh, oh God. Sam!”  Dean’s voice was a little high, his ass clenching with just the head of Sam’s dick inside.

 

“Are you okay?”  Sam said, stroking Dean.  He’d softened a little.

 

“Yeah, ah, yeah, just give me a second, man,” Dean panted, pushing back a little more.

 

“Sh, hold still till you’re ready,” Sam said.  He stroked Dean’s dick and kissed him hotly on the back of the neck, trying to concentrate on anything but the incredible tightness he was slowly, slowly sinking into.  Bit by bit, Dean’s body opened up around him and Sam sank in, till he was pressed against Dean’s ass, fully seated.

 

“Sam! Sammy!”  Dean gasped. His dick was hard again as Sam jacked him. Sam kissed Dean’s neck and held Dean firmly as he made a tentative thrust. 

 

“Oh,”  Dean groaned in pleasure, so Sam went a little harder.  Dean was trembling, trying to push back onto Sam and forward into his hand, both at the same time. Sam’s hand was slick from all the lube and moved freely across the hot skin of Dean’s dick as Sam thrust more deeply into him.

 

“Oh, Sam, oh God,” Dean moaned, shaking now. 

 

“How does it feel, Dean, with me so deep inside you?”  Sam whispered hotly into Dean’s ear.

 

“Oh, oh! It burns, just a little, but it feels, ah! so fucking good!  Christ, Sam, fuck me!”  Dean ground back onto Sam with a cry, arching his back like a cat.

 

“Okay, okay, Dean, can you...” Sam maneuvered Dean onto his knees, his face down on his forearms.  Sam had more leverage this way. 

 

Dean was open now, his body taking Sam deep inside, so Sam could use a little more force. He drove in, stroking Dean’s prostate with every thrust.  Dean was crying out continuously, moaning and cursing, and he sounded so wanton that it set Sam on fire.

 

“Dean, I want you to come for me, can you? Now, Dean!”  Sam reached around to take Dean in his hand.  Dean shoved fiercely back onto Sam with another harsh cry, his load pulsing hot into Sam’s hand. The spasms of  Dean’s orgasm rippled around Sam, sending him over the edge.  Desperate, he pulled out one last time and thrust all the way back in,  deep inside Dean as he could get. His own orgasm washed through him then like fire, every muscle tensing as he shot inside his brother, shaking as his vision whited out. 

 

Getting his breath back, he carefully pulled out, and Dean collapsed face down onto the bed.  Sam took a few deep breaths then went to get a washcloth.

 

“Pass out?” Sam asked Dean.

 

“Bitch, please,” Dean retorted, but he was grinning.

 

Sam carefully wiped Dean down and pulled the blankets up over them, then lay down next to him and pulled him back into his arms.  Sam’s cock nestled soft next to the crease of Dean’s ass, and Dean wiggled playfully against it.

 

“Was good, Sammy. Shouldn’t a been scared,” Dean murmured.

 

“But you didn’t pass out,” Sam complained.

 

“Next time,” Dean said.

 

“Yeah, next time,” Sam smiled, closing his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

References

The scholar in me is tired of the obligatory “disclaimer.”  This is a work of transformative fiction; no money is being made.  More interesting is the raft of research I used to write the story!  :)

The passage from Luke in Latin comes from the Vulgate, with parallel text from KJV. http://www.latinvulgate.com/

 

The exorcism that Sam knows by heart is taken from a transcript of 3.12, “Jus in Bello.” For some reason, it’s not up at the wiki, but is here:

http://www.horrornews.net/supernatural/transcripts/supernatural-season3/SN312.html

 

Information about Snoqualmie and North Bend comes from websites about Twin Peaks tourism in Washington state, including:

http://www.roadsideamerica.com/tip/2938

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snoqualmie_Falls

 

Need to know where Bobby’s salvage yard might be and what it might look like? Look at  Google Earth:   2700 North Cliff Avenue, Sioux Falls, SD

 

The song Dean strips to is “Feel Like Making Love,” by Bad Company. The other songs mentioned are “Custard Pie,” by Led Zeppelin, and “Knights in White Satin,” by the Moody Blues.

 

After he realized that Dean had bad associations with anal sex, Sam read this website thoroughly several times: http://sexuality.about.com/od/analplay/a/analplay101.htm

 

BONUS: Lyrics of “Feel Like Making Love”:  
Baby, when I think about you, I think about love

Darling, I don’t live without you and your love

If I had those golden dreams of my yesterday

I would wrap you in the heaven, but they lay dying on the way [?]

Feel like makin' love, feel like makin' love to you

[now picture Dean’s pretty hips dancing here, mm, nice]

And if I had the sun and moon, and they were shining

I would give you both night and day, love satisfying

 

 

 


End file.
